


A Soft Yellow Light

by ivoryline



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Couch Cuddles, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Its soft hours, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved, crowley just wants to be held
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivoryline/pseuds/ivoryline
Summary: When Crowley can't sleep, he seeks out Aziraphale.Crowley wasn't dressed like his usual flash self. He was wearing comfortable jersey knit pants in a soft grey color, a t-shirt with a faded logo for a business that had gone under decades ago, and an oversized black zip up hoodie. His hair hung loose around his shoulders and curling in a more unruly way than Crowley usually allowed. He must have taken his sunglasses off after entering the shop because his eyes were bare and Aziraphale could see dark smudges underneath them, physical marks of tiredness that made him look strangely vulnerable.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 240





	A Soft Yellow Light

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to sing someone to sleep,  
> have someone to sit by and be with.  
> I would like to cradle you and softly sing,  
> be your companion while you sleep or wake.  
> I would like to be the only person  
> in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.  
> And would like to listen to you  
> and outside to the world and to the woods.
> 
> The clocks are striking, calling to each other,  
> and one can see right to the edge of time.  
> Outside the house a strange man is afoot  
> and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep.  
> Beyond that there is silence.
> 
> My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;  
> and they hold you gently, letting you go  
> when something in the dark begins to move.   
> **-To Say Before Going to Sleep by Rainer Maria Rilke**

Aziraphale was enjoying an exceptionally relaxing evening in. He was wearing his softest dressing gown over old, comfort-worn pajamas and was settled down into his favorite armchair. He had let his posture slip just a tad, wiggling down deeper into the cushions. He had a book perched on his lap and cocoa within arm's reach. The soft yellow glow from his lamps kept the darkness at bay. The loud, weary world outside his bookshop had dulled to a low hum. 

Aziraphale sighed happily and turned a page.

"Aziraphale!"

The front door to the shop snapped open with a bang, the poor bell clanging in an overeager attempt to keep up. Aziraphale closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm afraid we're quite closed," Aziraphale called out in a futile attempt to preserve his peace.

"What's that got to do with me?" Crowley's voice was closer now. He must have been hovering around the threshold, but Aziraphale refused to open his eyes to check.

"Crowley, I don't know what you're doing here, but I am trying to relax and catch up on a spot of reading. I really must insist you entertain yourself,"Aziraphale told him, passing a hand over his face. There was a beat of silence before Crowley spoke again.

"I can't sleep."

Aziraphale's brow wrinkled in confusion. Crowley's proclivity for sleep was his business, he didn't usually bring Aziraphale into it. He looked up at Crowley at last, intending to ask just what that has to do with him, but the words died in his throat.

Crowley wasn't dressed like his usual flash self. He was wearing comfortable jersey knit pants in a soft grey color, a t-shirt with a faded logo for a business that had gone under decades ago, and an oversized black zip up hoodie. His hair hung loose around his shoulders and curling in a more unruly way than Crowley usually allowed. He must have taken his sunglasses off after entering the shop because his eyes were bare and Aziraphale could see dark smudges underneath them, physical marks of tiredness that made him look strangely vulnerable.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed. Crowley narrowed his eyes and oozed into the room, attempting to look menacing. He ran a hand idly over a stack of books on a side table and pretended to be interested in the titles. "What can I do to help?"

Crowley didn't answer right away. He slowly made his way closer to Aziraphale, like a moon that had managed to wander away from its planet and was making its way back home to its natural orbit. Aziraphale knew to be patient, Crowley would speak when he was ready. Crowley inspected the faded arm of the couch and darted a glance at Aziraphale.

"I've been doing some reading on the Internet," Crowley began.

"Oh, Lord, the Internet? Really?"

Crowley scoffed and turned his full attention on Aziraphale, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"There are books on the Internet, Aziraphale," Crowley told him for what was probably the hundredth time and Aziraphale couldn't repress an eyeroll. "Anyway, I read something I want to try."

"Well," Aziraphale hesitated a tad uneasily. Crowley sighed and Aziraphale felt himself getting defensive. "The last time you came calling in the middle of the night the Antichrist had been born, and the time before that I found myself dancing on a table in a pub in Glasgow with no memory of how I got there. So you'll excuse me if I need a little more information."

Crowley smiled at the memory and tipped his head in agreement. He shuffled just a bit closer so that he was nearly looming over Aziraphale.

"Just trust me on this, angel. If you don't like it we can try something else."

Aziraphale studied Crowley's face, looking for some hidden trick or joke. The demon already looked more at ease than he had when he first arrived. The poor dear did look awfully tired.

"Very well. Show me what you learned from the Internet," Aziraphale told him with a sigh. He slipped a fraying bit of ribbon that he used as a bookmark in between the pages of the book in his lap and closed it, resting his folded hands on the cover. Crowley's lips curved up in a small smile and he bent over to pluck the book out of Aziraphale's lap. He also snatched up his cocoa and set both things down on the side table by the couch. Aziraphale did not like this idea so far.

"Alright, then. Up you get," Crowley commanded. When Aziraphale didn't budge Crowley rolled his eyes and gestured impatiently with his hands for Aziraphale to stand.

"Please tell me we aren't going anywhere," Aziraphale pleaded.

"We're not," Crowley assured him, "I just want you to sit on the couch."

That wasn't so bad. Aziraphale stood and crossed over to the couch, sitting down on the opposite end from where Crowley usually sits. Crowley twitched two fingers to indicate Aziraphale should scooch over a bit more to leave some space between him and the arm of the couch. When Crowley was satisfied with Aziraphale's position, he nodded to himself once and started to toe off his soft soled house shoes. He crept closer again, a nervous sort of energy stealing over him.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," Crowley reminded him. Aziraphale just peered patiently up at him, waiting to see what his demon was going to do. Crowley seemed to steel himself, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment before releasing it. Before Aziraphale could fully register what was happening, Crowley was folding himself between Aziraphale and the arm of the couch with his legs draped over Aziraphale's lap.

Oh.

_Oh._ Crowley wanted to be held. Aziraphale felt like his heart was going to burst, his fondness was nearly overwhelming. Crowley had come to Aziraphale with his edges softened in search of a warm place to take refuge in. Aziraphale was full of joy to be trusted like that.

The demon was sitting so rigidly as if he was waiting for Aziraphale to toss him from the shop. He didn't even appear to be breathing and his shoulders were set in a tense line. Aziraphale wrapped one arm around Crowley's shoulders and pulled him snug to his chest while his other hand came to rest on his knee. Crowley simply melted into the embrace, releasing an unsteady breath. He tucked his head into Aziraphale's shoulder just under his chin.

They sat quietly for a while with the heavy ticking of an old grandfather clock and the occasional passing car to punctuate the silence. Aziraphale drew light circles on Crowley's knee with his thumb and lost himself to the soothing rhythm of Crowley's breathing. He rested his cheek against the top Crowley's head and breathed in the scent of Crowley's shampoo and that light earthy smell that was so distinctly _him._

"Thank you," Crowley whispered some time later. Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to Crowley's temple and miracled a blanket down from his flat. He tucked the blanket around them and resettled his hold so that he could run his fingers through Crowley's hair. Crowley pressed in closer and burrowed a hand under Aziraphale's dressing gown, fingers splayed across where his unnecessary heart beat out a love song against his ribs.

Crowley slipped into sleep, pliant in Aziraphale's arms and softly snoring against his chest. Perhaps some other night he'd allow Crowley's comforting weight to lull him sleep, but on this particular night Aziraphale was content to watch over his demon and chase bad dreams away.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on tumblr


End file.
